Tyrande and Malfurion had chosen to have the summit outside, in an area often used for grand events. They could have used the temple, where they had held their wedding, but part of the choice had to do with the Gilneans. It had been agreed by both that the introduction of Genn’s people to the Alliance would be better served outside, where some of those who might be discomforted by their presence would be able to avoid feeling trapped.
Now, with seating arranged in more circular fashion save for an entrance to the east, the highest-ranking night elves seated themselves and then awaited the entrances of their guests. All had now arrived save the magi of Dalaran, whose ruling council, the Kirin Tor, had declined to send a representative due to Dalaran’s desire to remain a bridge between the two warring sides. In Dalaran, magi of the Horde were as welcome as those serving the Alliance.
Tyrande and Malfurion had the seats of honor at the opposing end from the entrance. Sentinels in their full uniforms stood as honor guard near not only the high priestess and archdruid but also the entrance, where they would flank each of the visiting contingents.
But this was more than merely the official introduction of the summit. The entrances would be climaxed by the Ceremony of Induction, when new members of the Alliance would be added by call of vote. If a new member was accepted, it made sense that its representatives would then seat themselves and become part of the discussion to follow. To wait until a gathering was nearly at the end was ludicrous.
And if a supplicant was rejected . . . it also made sense for that party to depart as quickly as possible so as to keep its shame to a minimum.
On the surface, there was no sign of the turmoil going on in Darnassus. News had reached the pair that something—exactly what it was had not been made clear—had happened to Maiev’s brother in the course of the investigation. Malfurion and Tyrande only knew that Jarod was bedridden from injury. The high priestess had sent healers, and so there was apparently no fear of permanent injury, but both leaders desired to speak with Maiev’s brother as soon as matters permitted.
Archmage Mordent had also promised that the Highborne would remain quiet about the investigation during the events, though Var’dyn had voiced some opposition to that. The spellcasters had no active role in the summit, their situation strictly a night elf matter and of no business to the Alliance as a whole.
When all were seated save for those making their entrance, Tyrande signaled the trumpeters.
The horns blared, and the procession of Alliance members commenced.
So that there would be no quarrels, the positions were chosen by lots. Thus it was that by sheer chance the first to enter were the gnomes, led by Gelbin Mekkatorque in his mechanostrider. The gnomes were followed by the representatives of Theramore, and so on.
Each contingent sought to display to the best of their abilities their prowess. Wondrous and unnerving mechanisms traveled with the gnomes. The dwarves performed martial feats with their hammers as they marched, revealing the swiftness and dexterity their stout forms belied.
Each time one faction stepped through the entrance, the anthem of its land played. At the sound of the first note, the night elves rose in respect to their guests and remained so as one group followed another.
Around the place of gathering, the banners of each delegation fluttered proud and strong, even though those in attendance did not feel any breeze themselves. The well-focused wind was the archdruid’s doing.
Each procession halted before the high priestess and archdruid. There, the ruler or lead representative was greeted by a nod from the two night elves. It was yet another manner by which the pair thanked all those who attended—and also hopefully helped put their guests in a good mood for the discussions to come.
Stormwind was one of the last to enter but was among the most impressive. Varian led a crack contingent of his finest soldiers, and he himself was clad in armor that shone like the sun, so polished it was. Across his breastplate was emblazoned a regal lion’s head. At his side was sheathed his legendary blade. Next to him strode Anduin, the prince dressed in a blue and gold suit designed for the royal court, as opposed to war.
Upon reaching Tyrande and Malfurion, Varian gave a sweeping bow. The theatrical flourish was not in keeping with his stolid demeanor, but before Malfurion or the high priestess could decipher what it might mean, the king of Stormwind had moved on.
The last of the members of the Alliance seated themselves. Tyrande looked about, saw that all awaited what was next to come. Sharing a hopeful look with the archdruid, she rose.
“Sisters and brothers of the Alliance, comrades and friends, I call for a vote to open this gathering!”
In the same order that they had entered, the representatives cast their vote as she requested. The motion was a formality and passed without any dissension.
“My friends,” Tyrande went on. “It is with gratitude that the archdruid and I greet all of you! That you have chosen to join together at this summit is a true sign of hope in a troubled time.”
There were murmurs of agreement from some of the members and their parties.
“We have many grave matters to discuss,” the high priestess continued. “Many of you have suffered dearly since the madness of Deathwing tore Azeroth asunder, and are rightfully concerned that the Alliance might demand more from your people before the lands can heal themselves. I cannot promise that this will not happen.”
Now there were wary glances. Yet, all respected Tyrande and her husband so much that no one saw fit to voice their concerns on that very subject . . . for the moment.
Malfurion’s hand touched hers. Tyrande looked at the entrance. She saw no one, but the archdruid had clearly noted some signal.
“But before we can begin those discussions in earnest, we must ensure that we do so with every possible valued member present! And today we have those who would seek to become one of us, who would seek to share in our efforts to strengthen the Alliance. . . .”
A horn sounded . . . and immediately after, the anthem of Gilneas played.
Heads turned with anticipation toward the entrance. Tyrande and Malfurion glanced at King Varian, but his expression still revealed nothing.
A stillness fell over the audience as the first figure stepped into sight. Genn Greymane. He himself bore the banner of Gilneas—a red design consisting of a circle with three vertical lines akin to lances and another line bisecting the circle itself, all set in a field of gray—into the assembly, carrying it with a pride and strength worthy of a warrior much younger. In contrast to the splendor displayed by many in the audience, Genn wore the same simple, loose garments that he had during the banquet, and when the first of his people followed him into the assembly, they were seen to be dressed similarly.
Where there had only been a small band at the banquet, with Genn now marched a number that not coincidently matched the strength of Stormwind’s contingent. Genn obviously desired to show the others that he could offer the Alliance a powerful ally.
Yet, although the men and women of Gilneas looked to be sturdy of build and clearly willing fighters, they were noticeably unarmed. Even the pole upon which their banner fluttered had no point at the top, meaning that it could not represent any sort of weapon. It was as if the Gilneans sought to prove to their counterparts that they had no use for such.
Genn paused before the night elf leaders, acknowledging them as those before had. Then, in a change from the entrance of the other kingdoms, he took the pole and thrust the bottom hard into the ground.
“Gilneas stands before you!” the king called to all around him and his followers. “Gilneas stands before you to atone for its sins by offering its might to any and all of the Alliance who need it! No truer brother will there be to any in their time of distress!”
He stepped back to join Eadrik and the others. The Gilneans formed an arc facing every direction except the entrance, pointedly making certain that no matter where one sat in the assembly, he or she would be viewing some member of Genn’s band more or less in full.